


Stepping into Midnight

by TheCreatorOfTales



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Heard you all liked the paranormal stories huh?, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soft!Joan, Soft!Vera, Vampire AU, Well you asked and i delivered!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: Vera Bennett is attacked and is thrust into a completely different world to the one she knew.Thankfully, Joan Ferguson is on hand to help.
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 38





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> And another one that needed to get out of my head!!

Vera doesn’t make a sound when Joan staggers through the backdoor to her house with her in her arms, bulldozing through the kitchen and up the stairs. She doesn’t flinch, or whimper when Joan tries to gently place her on the bed in the spare room.

She’s covered in blood from the wound in her neck, a clear and distinct bite mark with deep gouges where Joan had ripped the creature away from her deputy. The pretty white summer-dress was done for. The wound would heal in the process of transformation, but she would be feral when she woke up for roughly two weeks. Joan hadn’t raised a childe of her own, but she’d seen it be done and figured that, much like people learned how to raise a baby as they went, she would need to do the same.

Vera would not be able to be unaccompanied for at least the first month. After that, sense seem to return to any newly turned, so they can fit in better among their prey. Much like a giraffe can walk within an hour of birth, evolution had done its work in ensuring that newly turned vampires wouldn’t starve.

“Fuck.” Is all she says as she watches Vera’s skin tone become paler. When she woke, she would always have her usual tanned complexion, but there would always be an undertint of pale. She would always look under the weather, as if she was starting to come down with a flu or a virus. It depended greatly on how it would look when she woke up, and there wasn’t much Joan could do for the woman except to make sure she was comfortable, and block out any potential sunshine for the next twenty four hours.

She spends the next hour making sure that both windows in the room were completely covered, and turning on the two beside lamps. She takes off Vera’s shoes, but beyond that, leaves her be. Transformations were varied for each person. Some feel like they’re in a coma, able to hear, feel and comprehend everything around them but for others, it felt like sitting in a campfire and being burned alive. Joan’s own transformation had felt like ice freezing through her veins and then the rest of her body, but she didn’t know how much of that was due to the fact that she’d been abandoned outside in the snow after being inflicted with a bite.

The vampire that had attached itself to Vera wasn’t known to her and the woman would have died had Joan not passed by her car in the parking garage. It was pure coincidence and she had no idea how her deputy was going to react to being shoved into this life. She’s was just glad that she’d managed to destroy the vampire before speeding off in her car with Vera in the backseat.

Vera hasn’t so much as twitched since being brought to her house.

Sighing, Joan goes to the study, where the walls are lined with books older than herself, having been collected for years. She grabs one, without looking, and goes straight back to the room and sits in the armchair by the bed. She shuffle the chair to the side slightly, so that she can prop her feet on the end of the bed, and she opens her book, and starts to read. Vera likely wont move for another twenty hours.

Luckily, the book was a long one.

She can feel when it gets dark. As it ever has, the incoming night makes a feeling creep up her spine. Although she can go outside in the sunshine, it was a case of building immunity to it. Vera would need to do the same. It had taken Joan a year to be able to withstand the sun throughout a day in the same way humans do. However, it could be done in less time.

Glancing at her watch, Joan notes that eight hours have passed. She eyes the motionless woman on the bed, and quickly goes downstairs to grab her laptop and then rushes back up the stairs, retaking her seat. She arranged for Vera to take a sabbatical, citing stress as her reason which would give her three months to get used to the new situation and decide whether she wanted to go back. Joan managed to finagle six weeks off, using one of the forged medical notes she kept on hand for emergencies.

Between Linda and Will Jackson, they’d find a way to manage between them.

A groan from the bed brings her attention back to the current predicament laying on the bed.

A high pitched whine fights its way through clenched teeth, and Joan sees her hands clenching into fists, cracking the dried blood on her palms and fingers, causing it to flake off onto the bed.

Joan quickly closes the laptop and shoves it under the bed, out of the way of any sudden movements.

“Vera?” She spoke lowly, trying not to startle the woman who’s eyes were still closed on the bed. Another whine.

“Listen to me, Vera. You’re safe, it’s Joan. You’re at my house. You’re safe.” She repeats that Vera is safe, knowing that the uncertainty during transformation makes it worse. Vera’s head snaps to the side, facing Joan with her eyebrows furrowed.

“…safe…?” Her near silent whisper would have been missed if Joan’s hearing wasn’t heightened. She reaches forward to stroke the woman’s hair, repeating her reassurances.

“Safe.” She breathes once more, her face relaxing as Joan continues her ministrations. When Joan goes to pull her hand away, her hand shoots up to stop her, and leads her hand back to her hair. “Helps.” Is the only explanation given so Joan moves and settles next to the woman on the bed, continuing to stroke her hair, and Vera sluggishly curls into Joan’s side.

It takes an hour for violent shivering to take over the short woman’s body and Joan reaches to cover her with the heavy quilt at the bottom bed, but not really sure if it would do any good. She doesn’t flinch away from it, so Joan leaves it as it is.

She doesn’t know whether Vera saw her take apart the feral vampire with her bare hands, tossing the parts into the sunshine to turn into dust. If she did, that could either be a blessing or a curse. Vera could either wake up and be terrified of her, or she could rise and have a basic understanding that this was out of the realm of normal. She hoped it was the latter.

She never wanted Vera to be afraid of her.

After eighteen hours, Joan begins reading aloud from the book she has. It’s a collection of Jane Austen, and she starts Sense and Sensibility, beginning from the first chapter and resting her arm around Vera’s form. She’d tucked her head onto her shoulder hours ago, and Joan didn’t have the heart to move her.

The two sisters in the book are reaching London when she feels stirring from Vera. She pauses her reading and looks down to where her head is still tucked into the crook of her neck. Her face is scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a grimace. Joan can see the changes that the transformation has brought, smoothed out her skin, highlighted her cheekbones and tightened the skin around her jaw.

Joan waits.

Vera’s eyes fly open.


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera wakes up. 
> 
> Joan tries to explain a few things.

Joan freezes, waiting to see what Vera does first.

“Joan.” She whispers, blinking tiredly. Joan remembers the first twenty four hours after a transformation, and the fluctuation between exhausted and being willing to body slam someone into the ground.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Hurting a little. But, I don’t know why.” Vera frowns, not moving from her position tucked into Joan’s side. “Wait.”

Joan waits for Vera’s mind to catch up with the current situation. She knows what it feels like, the first few hours where your brain could operate far quicker than humans, but the conscious mind needed time to cope with this and catch up.

“You…”

“Hm?”

“You helped. You saved me from the thing!” She lifts her head to look Joan directly in the eyes. She notes how the lovely blue eyes that Vera had previously, has darkened to a grey, and would only darken to black and then a rusted red when her more vampiric side would come out.

“What do you remember?”

Vera frowns, trying to remember. “I was putting my shopping away, and then it just hurt, my neck. He…bit me?!”

Joan eyes her, having known the woman long enough now to know her speech patterns, she waits.

“He did! He bit me! And then you…” It dawns on Vera how it all happened. “You ripped him apart. Literally.”

She breathes deeply.

Joan opened her mouth, but Vera speaks quickly, her voice shaking.

“How?! How did you do that?! Are you going to get in trouble because you helped me?” Vera sits up, panicked and wrings her hands. “You can’t get in trouble, you helped me!”

Joan catches her hands, stopping her from fluttering her hands. “Use you head, Vera. Tell me what you think happened.” She keeps Vera’s eyes on her, still clutching her hands in hers.

“I’d think I got bitten by a vampire. Or someone who thought that they were one, anyway.” Joan keeps her grip as she stares at her, willing her to connect the dots herself. She wouldn’t believe her if she told her.

“Vera…”

“But they’re not real! So it was a psycho, obviously!”

Joan realised that she would need some physical proof to show the woman in front of her that this was happening. She looked around the room until her eyes settle on a solid metal ball on the bedside table. It was a paperweight, the size of a large apple and solid.

She meets Vera’s eyes and then leans across, grabbing the paperweight and bringing it back to the other woman.

Wordlessly, she hands it over, and Vera holds it in her hands, confused.

“Crush it into a little ball.”

“What?”

“Trust me. Crush it into a ball.”

Confused, Vera looks at the ball and then clasps her hands together. With grinding and cracking, the ball is easily crushed into a small sphere the size of a grape, and resembles crushed tinfoil.

Vera drops it onto the bed with a screech of shock. She skitters back, baring her teeth, and Joan can see that her baser instincts are taking over to cope with the sudden realisation that she isn’t what she used to be.

“What,” she snarls past clenched teeth with elongated canines, “the _fuck_ has happened to me?!”

Joan opens her mouth to answer her, trying to save the possible destruction of the room around them. But Vera catches sight of Joan’s own elongated canines, which had lengthened by instinct when her own _other side_ had noticed the possible danger in front of her.

Red melted into Vera’s now grey eyes, and spiderwebs of cracked skin showed on the skin around her eyes. She bared her teeth, now glistening with venom and with a frustrated snarl, she launches herself at Joan.

Together, they tumble off the bed, rolling onto the floor, knocking the lamp off the nearest table and causing the armchair to fall over. They tussle for a few moments, neither of them getting the upper hand. They hurl each other onto their backs, causing cracks in the floor, or they grab a fistful of hair and throw a slap. For each yank of a lock of hair, there is an answering snarl, and the two of them are trying to prove themselves the more dominant in the situation, driven by instinct.

Vera, in a burst of strength that she didn’t have before, pins Joan to the floor, holding her wrists up by her head and snarling into her face.

Joan doesn’t appreciate that. Vera has her sympathy over the entire situation, but she will _not_ allow a few hours old childe to get the best of her. Baring her teeth in a show in a show of dominance, and using a burst of speed, she has them flipped, with Vera struggling on the floor as she straddled her legs to stop her kicking.

“Enough!” She snarls through clenched teeth. Vera blinks at her in shock, grey bleeding back into the red of her eyes. Breathing heavily, she meets Joan’s own red eyes, and it seems to hit her all at once that whatever has happened to her, has happened to Joan too.

“It’s real, isn’t it?”

Joan nods, relaxing her face, and Vera watches as her teeth retreats back to normal canines, and the cracks on the sides of her face smooth out, leaving the same pale skin that was always there.

“If I get off of you, will you listen?” Joan asks, and Vera nods. Slowly, so she doesn’t alarm Vera’s newly temperamental mood, Joan moves off her legs, crouches and then stands. Vera doesn’t move for a moment, staring at the ceiling and acknowledging the fact that _Joan Ferguson_ had been straddling her. Aside from the fact that she’d been dreaming of the woman for months, apparently she was also a _vampire._ And she was willing to help her.

Joan holds out her hand.

After a moment, Vera grasps it gratefully, and pulls herself up from the floor.

* * *

Joan answers every question she has, honestly and fairly bluntly.

“I’ve seen you in the sun, what’s up with that? We don’t burn, then?”

Joan grins. “You build up an immunity to it. But, if you get ripped apart, and tossed into sunlight, you turn to dust and there’s no coming back from that. If your arm or hand gets ripped off, it can be reattached, if the limb is still whole.”

“So we don’t sparkle?” Vera jokes, turning to look at her.

Joan chuckles. “No, no Twilight for us.”

“I’m amazed you know what Twilight is.” Vera quips at her, and Joan shoves her playfully, and they share the first laugh since before Vera woke up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you really?”

“You mean, how long have I been like this?”

Vera nods, and Joan is silent for a moment. “My father was a Bolshevik. Unfortunately, he wronged a few people on the other side, and on the night that they shot the Romanovs, I was bitten in retribution and left outside in the snow. Whether they meant to turn me or not, I don’t know. I remembered his face when I woke up and I hunted him down. I didn’t even give him a chance to tell me why, I was so angry that I ripped him apart.”

Vera is staring at her, open mouthed.

“I swear if you tell me that I’m old…”

Vera rapidly shakes her head. “Never.” Then smirking, she quips. “I’m just thinking of the fact that you lived through the forties and fifties. Did you have the curls and the big dresses?” She gestures to her own hair, grinning at her.

Reluctantly, Joan nods. “Yes, I did. However, I preferred the slacks and blouses. I was rather fond of the curls, actually.”

Joan allows the humour to seep through to the woman leaning against her.

“How do I even deal with this?”

“With my help. We’ll get you feeling more normal as soon as we can.” Joan holds her hand, palm up on her own thigh, and Vera gently places her own petite hand on top. “Your first month will be unpleasant, I wont lie to you.”

“How bad?”

“Getting used to yourself as you are now, learning to control your instincts. Think of it as a second puberty only now you have sharp teeth and a penchant for blood thrown in, instead of periods and boys.”

“Joyous. What do we eat? I’m guessing that vegetarians don’t exist.”

Joan offers her a reassuring smile. “For the first month, I have enough supplies here to keep us both fed, whilst we build your immunity to the sun. Its Australia, you cant avoid it here.” Vera stays quiet, listening. “We’ll start you off with half an hour sat in the shade tomorrow, and then go from there with a pace you’re comfortable with.”

Vera stays silent, thinking. She’d always loved the sunshine, and she finds herself immensely grateful that she won’t have to skulk around in the dark forever. She’s suddenly overcome with the fact that Joan had so willingly offered her help. She doesn’t notice that she’s crying until there’s tears dripping onto her already stained dress, and it catches her eye.

Her tears are red.

Bloody.

Joan notices, turns and lifts her hands to gently wipe away the tears with her thumbs, leaving bloody streaks. “No tears, Vera. You are safe, supported and alive. In a sense of speaking at least.” Vera offers a weak smile, shuddering as she cries.

“You are welcome here, and we will get you through every step. I promise.”

Vera closes her eyes and leans into Joan’s hands that are cupping her cheeks, sighing softly.

* * *

Joan manages to coax Vera through to her own bedroom down the hallway, and sits her on the large bed and wanders over to one of the wardrobes, opening the doors and turning to back to Vera.

“Comfortable and cosy?” She asks, referring to the offer of clean clothes and at Vera’s grateful nod, she pulls out a pair of leggings and a cosy sweater. “We’ll need to grab some things of yours if we can.” She murmurs, watching as Vera nods enthusiastically.

Leading the other woman through to the en-suite bathroom, she turns on the shower, and pulls out two fluffy towels, placing them by the sink.

Offering a reassuring smile, she backs out of the bathroom, leaving the door open to stop Vera potentially feeling trapped and reacting badly.

She wanders down the stairs, walking into the kitchen and opening a cupboard to her right. Finding what she wanted, she grabs the travel mug with the lid, and sets in on the counter. Then, she goes to the fridge, and reaching to the back, she clicks the false back out and to the side, showing bags filled with red liquid. Grabbing two, she places the false back of the fridge back into it’s usual spot, making the refrigerator look completely normal.

She returns to the travel mug on the counter, her ears pricking up at the sound of the shower shutting off upstairs. She rips open a corner of one blood bag with her teeth, and pours it into the travel mug, twisting the lid once the bag is empty. She knows Vera will have to get used to it, but for the first drink, Joan will give her brain a chance to realise that blood isn’t too terrible a diet to have. She rips open the second bag, and pours it into a tall mug, with very little fanfare. It was how she always drank it, quick and easy.

She hears the nervous footsteps come closer to the kitchen door, and eventually, damp curls followed by a face appear around the door.

“Hungry?”

The idea of something to stave off the hunger gnawing in her belly causes Vera to walk into the room, looking far better than she had in the ruined dress. The shorter woman stands next to Joan, looking at her in half curiosity, half expectance.

Wordlessly, she holds up the travel mug, which Vera looks at incredulously.

“What?” Joan questions with a grin. “Did you think I have people locked in a cellar to eat?”

“Hm, you never know.” She grasps the mug in her hand, feeling the weight and the liquid moving inside. “Thinking about it though, that would be too messy for you.”

She sips from the mug, eyebrows flying upwards and her eyes as wide as saucers. She finishes the mug in no time, licking her lips after. Joan’s eyes follow the motion of her tongue as it peeks out and then disappears.

Joan drinks her own mug far more sedately, watching as the energy from the first feed causes Vera to almost vibrate with the energy of a hyperactive hummingbird. They’ve turned the radio on, and she’s freely pirouetting around the kitchen, having some unrestrained fun after the horrors of the last day and her transformation.

At the start of a new song, she watches as Joan places her now empty mug into the sink, and rushes forward with a grin to pull her into her dance.

“ _And then I found me a lover who could play the bass,_

_He’s kinda quiet but his body ain’t,_

_Spend the day dreaming and the nights awake,_

_Doin’ things we know we shouldn’t do…”_

Joan humours her, and they waltz around the kitchen, cackling and giggling as the song plays a bouncy beat. This continues for the next few songs, Joan twirling Vera and catching her around the waist.

The grin widely at each other, and then Vera’s eyes are drawn by the small stream of sunlight peeking in through the kitchen windows.

Joan knows what she’s going to do before she even does it, and keeps her arm around her waist in case the woman decides to do something unexpected.

It has been over twenty four hours by now, most of it spent explaining things to Vera so when the shorter woman outstretches her hand towards the small block of light, Joan doesn’t hold her back. A small part of her at the back of her head warns her that like babies, vampires have a habit of not following the normal way of things. 

Cautiously, Vera moves her hand into the sunlight, and the both of them hold their breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, i appreciate all the support from you lovely people! <3 
> 
> Kudos and Comments keep a writer going <3


	3. Getting Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera finds out more about Joan's life, potential abilities and instincts flare up again.

Vera hesitantly places one index finger into the sliver of sunlight, not really sure what she is expecting. She knows that Joan wouldn’t let her attempt anything that might hurt her, and she can feel the solid weight of the other woman’s arm around her waist still.

It feels…warm.

Not dissimilar to how the sun would feel when she used to step outside during the height of summer, her index finger was comfortably warm. She opens her hand into the light, and feels her hand warm up.

“It’s warm!” She turns back to the older vampire behind her, who’s watching her excitement with a fond smile. “I thought I’d burst into flames or something, but its _warm!”_

Joan keeps a watchful eye, and when she sees the tell-tale signs of rapid redness taking over Vera’s hand after five minutes, she gently tugs it back as the curly haired woman takes notice of the sudden burning sensation in her hand and lets loose a small hiss of surprise. Carefully, Joan holds Vera’s hand in her own and rubs the back of her hand gently with her thumb. Vera watches in astonishment as the redness quickly fades, returning her skin back to its normal tone.

“You’ll build up an immunity to it, don’t worry.” Joan reassures her as the shorter woman shrinks away from the strip of sunlight moving closer to them as the sun rose. Flinching back from the sunlight made her push closer to Joan who simply wrapped her arm tighter around her wrist and move them to the other side of the kitchen, making Vera breathe a little easier.

“And what you can’t gain an immunity to, you can cover.”

“Like with hats and gloves?” Vera crinkles her nose.

Joan laughs. “There’s also a cream that one of us manufactured, which works in a similar way to suncream.”

“Really? That’s a genius idea.”

“Believe it or not, you can order it on Amazon.”

Joan has to tap Vera’s chin to get her to close her mouth, letting loose a small chuckle as she does so.

The radio is still playing lowly in the background, and Vera stays with Joan’s arm around her waist, circling her own arms around the taller woman in return and hugging her for all she’s worth.

If Joan is surprised by the action, she doesn’t mention it. Nor does she mention the fact that she can hear Vera inhaling deeply, repeatedly. She knows what she’s doing, Joan remembers the obsessive need to hold on to the familiar where she could after she was turned, so she isn’t surprised that Vera has latched on to her as the only familiar thing left. Joan couldn’t judge, when she’d found her father a few days after her transformation, he’d been shot dead, but she’d worn his bloodstained military jacket for years until it had fallen apart, the familiar smell giving her some semblance of control on her instincts.

“Do we have any cool tricks? Or powers? Like in the movies?” Vera’s voice is muffled by her face being shoved into Joan’s shirt but Joan hears her perfectly.

“Was the super strength and speed not good enough?” She teases, causing Vera to look up and grin. “Powers vary, some can be learnt but others are inherited during the transformation or from the creator.”

“Do you have any?”

Joan gazes at her for a moment, pursing her lips slightly as if considering it. Vera pouts and playfully bats her eyes at her. Joan drops her arm from around the woman’s waist and Vera does the same and watches as the taller woman steps back.

“Watch.” She winks and she spins in place as black, hazy smoke suddenly appears from nowhere, spinning and wrapping itself around the woman and then disappears as suddenly as it came, and Joan was gone.

“Where are you?” Vera laughs, amazed.

“Are you entertained, yet?” She hears Joan’s voice call her from the backyard and she shoots to the window, careful to stick behind the shades of the kitchen as much as she can as she sees Joan waving at her from the patio. Then she sees the smoke gather again and appear in the kitchen and Joan is there, stood in front of her.

“Is that one that can be taught?” Vera asks, bouncing on her toes.

Joan nods. “Took me two years, but it is possible.”

“Do you have any more?”

Joan’s eyes twinkle. She’s enjoying the other woman’s enthusiasm, and continues to grin at Vera as the flowers that had been in the expensive vase in the hallway comes floating through the kitchen door. Vera claps her hands over her mouth in surprise as a pink rose bobs over to her, and winds itself behind her ear. The rest of the flowers come to rest on the counter.

“That particular ability, I inherited.”

Vera gently touches the bud of the rose by her face with an awestruck look on her face. “Will I get that one?”

Joan furrows her eyebrows, hating to dull the enthusiasm of the shorter woman. “I’m not sure. It depends greatly on what powers your creator had, if any. But, powers can be learnt, remember that.”

Vera smiles brightly at her, nonetheless.

“We’ll need to order you some new clothes, I think.” Joan says, stepping back and looking her up and down. Vera looks confused. 

“You’ve gotten a little taller.” Joan gently pulls her to the side, again looking her up and down, and nodding when she reaches Vera’s quizzical expression. “You’ve…well. I’ll just come out with it, you’ve developed more of a bust than you had before, as well as your behind.”

“Joan Ferguson, are you telling me that I have tits and an ass?!”

Joan’s expression is comical. Her eyes are wide, her mouth in a small ‘O’ shape and she’s staring at Vera in slight shock at her reaction. Vera can’t hide the laughter, and lets it lose, and Joan joins in once she hears the noise filling the kitchen.

“I thought I’d gotten a few more curves here and there, its not a surprise. I’m actually quite happy about it.”

Joan could understand that. The entire transformation process was based around creating a perfect predator, to create a predator which sat firmly on the top of the food chain. Couldn’t exactly be a perfect predator with self-esteem issues, could you? It’s no wonder that the transformation gave each person their ideal view of their own body and image.

“You never mentioned if anything could ever try to hurt us.” Vera said, perching on the stool by the kitchen counter, tapping her foot, showing the energy that she still had.

Joan grimaced, remembering the last time she’d come across a hunter. “I’ve only ever crossed path with one. I’ve not seen another, thankfully.”

Vera reaches up, resting a hand gently on the other woman’s cheek, not fighting the impulse to try and make her stop frowning.

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.” Vera doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. That was the last thing she ever wanted to make the woman feel. Joan offers a gentle smile and sits on the stool next to her.

“It was a long time ago. It was in 1957, just outside Bordeaux. I managed to kill him, but he got three silver bullets in me before I got my hands on him.” She shrugs out of her sweater, folding it carefully and placing it on the kitchen counter, leaving her in a black strap top. Turning her back slightly, she points out a slight dent in the skin, accompanied by some puckering of skin and pockmarks on her shoulder blade.

“The other two bullets healed with little issue. This one had to be dug out by a friend.” Vera gasps lowly, raising her hand to gently brush her fingers across the scarred skin. When her fingertips make contact, Joan flinches slightly, and then calms. 

“Sorry.” Vera murmurs.

“A reflex. Not many people get close enough to see it, let alone touch it.”

“I can stop…”

“No, it’s…nice.”

Vera continued her gentle ministrations on Joan’s upper back, listening as the dark haired women explains why this wound had caused the issue.

“This was a silver bullet, coated in a silver casing and then dipped in kerosene. So when the bastard fired the gun, it was a ball of flame. It was the first one he hit me with. He was aiming for the back of my neck, I think. When he got my shoulder he panicked, and it threw him off target. One hit my arm, and the other hit my thigh. By the time he shot my thigh, I already had my hands around his throat.”

Javier Claude De Montrer. General bastard to most of the supernatural world until Joan got her hands on him. She remembers stumbling back to her home at the time, a hidden townhouse in the 16th arrondissement, hearing the double clinking sound of the two smaller silver bullets dropping out of her thigh and her arm as her body healed and then needing Antoinette to dig out the one in her shoulder blade with a small pair of pliers.

_“Joan! Qu-est qu’il y a!? Non, attends, restez l_ _á, sur la chaise, maintenant! Putain!”_

_“Antoinette, arretez avec la son, sil t’plait.”_

_“Non! Stupide, regarde ton_ _épaule! C’est mal, cherie. Je te l’ai d_ _éj_ _á parl_ _é des chausseurs de vampires, et tu sais_ _ça!”_

_Multiple curses, in different languages had flown from Joan’s mouth as she’d sat in a kitchen chair backwards as the white haired vampire had yanked out the bullet with pliers and very little sympathy. Like all vampires, Antoinette was beautiful despite the fact that she had been sixty-five when she’d been accidentally turned. She’d helped Joan when she’d first arrived in France in 1937, the two living in Paris, until the war had made life difficult to stay under the radar so they fled further south, eventually ending up in Bordeaux and finding a thriving, underground vampiric community._

“Speaking of my friend, I should probably call her soon otherwise she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“What’s she called?”

“Antoinette. The most crotchety, sarcastic woman you’ve ever seen, but she has a heart of gold. She’ll help you through any problem, but she’ll be snarky the entire time, and she can be terrifying.” Joan looks over her shoulder at Vera. “She’d like you.”

“I’d like to meet her.” Vera smiles, and Joan turns around fully in the chair, watching as the smile falls off her face. “But not yet.”

_Ah, those pesky instincts._

Vera’s eyes take on a possessive glint and Joan knows that the instincts that had been absent for most of the early morning have come roaring back. It was to be expected, the other vampire had done well in keeping them tamped down, but the grasp on them was slipping, obviously.

She doesn’t stop Vera from shunting the stool closer, and she doesn’t stop her when the shorter vampire tucks herself back into her side, reaching up and gently brushing the scar left by the vampire hunter. Joan shudders lightly.

Vera’s arms wrap around her waist again and she nuzzles her face into the side of Joan’s neck, the tip of her nose brushing against where her pulse point would be if she still had one.

“You smell incredible.” The words are half growled, and Joan blinks in surprise. “I’ve always thought so.”

“Vera…”

“Hush.”

Joan stills, letting the new vampire continue her nuzzling, not wanting to trigger an adverse reaction. And if she was being truthful, it wasn’t difficult to have Vera so close.

In fact, she was rather enjoying it.

Until she feels the sharp nick of teeth in the curve of her neck without her permission and she immediately turns and flicks Vera in the forehead with a harsh hiss in an unfiltered reaction.

Vera harshly hisses back and Joan watches, with teeth and fangs bared as the red bleeds back into the other woman’s eyes. 

_Here we go again…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Joan! Qu-est qu’il y a!? Non, attends, restez lá, sur la chaise, maintenant! Putain!” (Joan! What is it? No, wait, stay on the chair, now! Fuck!)
> 
> “Antoinette, arretez avec la son, sil t’plait.” (Antoinette, enough with the noise, please.)
> 
> “Non! Stupide, regarde ton épaule! C’est mal, cherie. Je te l’ai déjá parlé des chausseurs de vampires, et tu sais ça!” (No! Stupid, look at your shoulder! It's bad, darling. I've told you about vampire hunters, you know this!)
> 
> This is going to be a multiple chapter fic you lovely people!
> 
> As always, Kudos and Comments keep me going <3 
> 
> Hope everyone stays as safe as possible!


	4. The Temper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of being flicked in the forehead are revealed. 
> 
> Vera loses her temper. 
> 
> Joan absolutely refuses to watch Orange is the New Black.

Was it a good idea to flick a day old vampire in the forehead? Probably not, but the action had been a reflex and had gotten her point across.

Joan knows what Vera is going to do before she leaps from the stool, with fangs bared and a snarl in her throat.

_Baby vampires are overgrown toddlers with sharper teeth,_ she thinks with exasperation as they both crash to the ground, causing small cracks in the tile. Joan quickly rolls them, so that Vera is now on her back, and Joan is leaning over her, her own canines extended and red bleeding into her eyes. The difference between them is that Joan is smirking at her, whereas Vera looks angry enough to pull the house down around their ears. Joan is goading her deliberately, thinking that the more temper that is pulled out of Vera now, the less likely another rage will happen later.

Vera snarls back wordlessly at her, shoving her backwards and getting to her feet. Joan does the same, waiting for the next move the other woman would try. Vera doesn’t say anything, only stands there, with clawed hands and breathing heavily.

“Are you finished with your temper tantrum?” Is all Joan asks, with a raised eyebrow.

“You FLICKED me!”

“It would appear so.”

“On my head!” Vera growled, baring her teeth again.

Joan sighs. This was going to be a long month if Vera was going to swing from one emotion to the next, but she was determined that Vera would be a perfectly courteous vampire by the end of it. Whether she wanted to be, or not. It was a matter of safety that Vera understood the mannerisms. Newer vampires were killed for less by much older vampires with little patience.

“There are manners, just like humans, Vera. Trying to take a nibble on an another vampire’s neck without express consent is frowned upon.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to FLICK MY HEAD!” Vera’s voice is getting higher and Joan is grateful that she has no neighbours near her home.

“Any other vampire would have bowled you through the wall. Consider it a lesson learnt.” Joan has no sympathy. Coddling Vera on the more important rules and courtesies would do her no favours.

Vera reacts in the way Joan expected her to. She launches herself at her again, knocking them both over.

They tussle, snarling and hissing at each other. One of the stools gets hurled out of the way and lands on top of the dining table on the other end of the room with a loud clatter, and more tiles are cracked as they throw each other around the room.

Like before, Joan isn’t willing to let Vera win in the scuffle, and for every move the younger vampire does, Joan counters and defends against. Vera continues to rail against the injustice of Joan flicking her forehead and Joan continuously counters with the fact that the lesson had been learnt fairly painlessly. 

“It isn’t my fault that you smell so great!” There’s heat in her voice this time, the sort of heat that she’s not heard from Vera before.

Joan stops short, and misses a chance to stop Vera’s next attack on her. Vera, used to being stopped by Joan’s steady hands so far, doesn’t slow down and ends up slamming full force into the taller vampire, causing them both to shoot through the door separating the kitchen from the hallway.

Joan wheezes lowly as Vera lays on top of her, the shock of the sudden fall yanking her out of the forehead flick-induced temper. The shards of the shattered door surround them, including the glass partition that had been on the top half.

“Are you finished now?” Joan’s voice is low, and her eyes are closed as she speaks.

“I’m sorry.” Her head is resting in the crook of Joan’s neck. Her mind suddenly realises that the other woman had clutched her closely, and tightly to her body as they’d fallen through the door, taking the brunt of the fall on herself. She grasps at Joan’s waist, pressing against her in a silent request for forgiveness. Her silence is worrying her. “I’m sorry for breaking your door, too.” 

“Hm. Give me a minute to let my lungs rebuild themselves.” The sarcasm shows her that all is forgiven. Joan never held onto a grudge with Vera, ever since they’d started to work together. She’d maybe growl and stomp about for a bit, but Vera never doubted that by the end of their shift together, whatever had gone wrong would be all forgiven and they’d exit the building together as they always did.

“I’m not sorry about saying that you smell good, though. Because that is true.” Vera can feel the huff of laughter from the woman underneath her.

“Well, your penance for your temper in this case is sweeping up my broken door whilst I sort out the kitchen.”

Vera rises to her feet first, holding out a hand for Joan to take. With a groan, she gets to her feet and stretches her arms out, and Vera can hear the audible crack of her spine as it finishes its healing from the fall.

“There.” Joan smiles reassuringly at her. “No harm, no foul.” She looks down at the demolished door. “Well, mostly. Watch your feet with the glass.”

The taller woman helps her over the smashed pieces and then points her in the direction of the cleaning cupboard in the kitchen. Vera pulls open the thin closet door, finding the broom and the dustpan and then getting to work, careful not to get any glass in her bare feet. Accelerated healing or not, glass hurt.

Joan has the kitchen set to rights within ten minutes. The stools are back in their places, and the larger pieces of cracked tiles are in the bin. She wont be able to do anything else with the tiles until she orders the replacements, which will take a few days. 

Vera makes her way over with the broom and the dustpan and finds herself entranced by the sunshine and the garden outside. She stills, and stares out of the glass of the back door, aware that she’s stood in the sunshine and that she has roughly five minutes to appreciate it until she has to step back into the shade again.

She’s never seen such a bright garden. There’s bees, insects, buzzing around the blooming flowers. There’s a soft haze of pollen that gives the garden a magical quality to it. There’s trees lining the edge of the large garden, giving privacy from any prying eyes. The patio is a shaded area, with a set of chairs and a table, and it set up so that it looks out onto the garden. Vera desperately wants to be able to sit outside again.

As if she can tell where her thoughts are leading, Joan comes up next to her, grasping the brush and the dustpan from her hands, and placing it to one side.

“We’ll get you building a tolerance to the sunshine as soon as we can for you, but it will be done _safely,_ Vera.” Joan smiles at the unsure looking woman. “Slow but steady.”

“Okay.” And Vera let’s Joan lead her out of the light, and into the shaded kitchen as her skin began to turn red in a similar way to sunburn.

Later, when Joan has covered the windows in the living room with the curtains, they settle on the sofa, arguing over what to watch on the large, flatscreen tv on the wall.

“I am telling you, I’m not watching that prison programme.” Joan is adamant.

“Oh come on, we can judge it together!”

“Not a chance, what about a true crime documentary? I like those.” Vera looks up at her at this little tidbit of information.

“Alright, true crime documentary it is. I could watch them any time, I really like them.” They end up starting the Ted Bundy documentary, with Joan adding commentary of what it was really like at the time, seeing that she lived through it.

“Were you in America then?” Vera is curious as they watch the programme introduce the serial killer through his family and friends.

“No, I’d been in London for a few years by that point. I did move to the U.S in the eighties, but I didn’t particularly like it.” Vera could sit and listen to Joan talk about the places where she’s lives for hours.

As they continue to watch the documentary, they fidget to get themselves comfortable on the sofa. Joan stretches out her legs on the L-section of the sofa, and Vera eventually half lays on Joan, tucked into her side, feeling calm with the other woman near. She tries not to think too much on the fact that Joan makes her feel better, more grounded. She doesn’t want to feel like a burden on the other woman, but the more rational side of her brain knows that Joan has promised to help her. Rationality and her instinctual side of her brain are warring, and she tries to keep her rational side in the forefront. Joan had explained to her, that the first month would feel like she was swinging from one emotion to the other, and that it was normal. By the end of the first month, the vampiric nature of her instincts would settle and become cohesive with her conscious mind and it would be much easier. Joan had promised to be with her every step of the way.

“I’ve not thought of this before, but do we sleep?” Vera tilts up her chin to look at Joan who turns to face her.

“Yes. But we don’t necessarily need to.” She chuckles softly at Vera’s confused expression. “Yes we can sleep, and I enjoy it, but we don’t need it as much as humans do. If you go a few nights of not sleeping, you wont feel any effect like a human would.”

“ _That’s_ how you managed three back-to-back shifts!”

Joan smiles at her, nodding. “So yes, you can sleep if you want to.”

“Good, I like my sleep.” She then snuggles back into Joan’s side as Ted Bundy’s childhood friends explain his oddities as a child on the tv.

Later, after feeding Vera again, and two more true crime series, it’s nearly 10pm and the two decide that it’s a good time to enjoy some sleep. Joan leads Vera to the other guest room, which is immaculately decorated like the other. She gives the woman some pyjamas, and Vera throws her arms around her waist and hugs her tightly. Joan returns the embrace, gently.

“I’m only down the hall.” She murmurs, and Vera nods.

She lay on her back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. She knew that she was safe, but it felt like there was something missing, something that made her feel completely unsettled, despite her mind telling her that it was irrational. There was something gnawing at the back of her mind, that something was desperately wrong because it wasn’t where it should be.

She sighs heavily and then looks over at the clock. 11:30pm.

She flings the covers back and quietly walks down the hallway, knocking gently on Joan’s door and enters. The room is dark, but her eyesight is better now than it was before. She can see Joan’s bed, and the shape of the woman curled up on her side, facing her. Vera tiptoes closer, the feeling of _wrongness_ easing as she got closer to the woman laying in the bed.

“Joan.” She whispered. The black haired woman shifts in the bed, and without a word, holds up the edge of the covers with one hand.

Vera grins and accepts the unspoken invitation, and quickly climbs into Joan’s bed, and tucks herself into her side. Joan simply wraps an arm around her waist, keeping the shorter woman close.

“Better?” She murmurs softly, half asleep and her voice husky. Vera nods happily, with a small smile as the unsettled feeling in her gut disappeared entirely. She sighs happily, as she gets comfortable.

Vera falls asleep for the first time as a vampire with her nose tucked into Joan’s neck, breathing in the smell of her until she drops off into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, comments and taking the time to read this! I appreciate every one! <3


	5. First Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera really likes snuggling into blankets. 
> 
> And Joan. 
> 
> And her inner vampire REALLY likes Joan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's starting to pick up the pace in here!

Vera wakes, slowly and languidly. She blinks tiredly, feeling too comfortable to move and far too exhausted. She’s curled up into Joan’s side and she sighs with satisfaction. With heavy eyes, she looks up, seeing the dishevelled hair and pale skin as Joan’s dark eyes flick over the words of her book, one arm wrapped around her, surrounding her in the scent that was quintessentially _Joan._

She fidgets, tucking herself closer, burying her nose into Joan’s side, breathing deeply. She doesn’t want to move, or get up. She’s happy to stay where she is.

“I know you’re awake.” Joan turns the page of her book, and then turns to look down at her.

Vera blinks once, then freezes. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Joan looks _resplendent._ Even if her hair was half sticking up due to sleep and pyjamas were rumpled. The pyjamas that Vera is very suddenly realising, is a silky, royal blue shorts and camisole set, with delicate white lace along the edge. Pyjamas that look incredible on the woman. _Shit._

Joan smiles softly at the sight of her. Her hair is a riot of curls, splayed around her head and onto Joan’s side where she’s pressed against. She blinks her eyes at her, and there’s exhaustion in them.

“…time is it?” Vera murmurs, not willing to move from the cocoon of blankets, and the comfort of Joan’s side. The blanket is pulled up to her cheek, with the top of her head poking out and resting on Joan’s side, looking the image of ‘cosy.’

“3am.”

“Huh?”

“Vampires usually don’t need as much sleep, remember?” She puts the book down next to her on the bed. “But I should have warned you, you will probably spend most of today sleeping. Your body and your mind needs to get used to vampire time. Think of it as supernatural jet-lag.”

“Hm.” She rubs her nose into the silky camisole of Joan’s pyjamas, inhaling deeply as she did so. “Sleep with me?” She murmurs, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Wait, that sounded bad.”

Joan chuckles softly, reaching over to put the book on the bedside table, and then shifts onto her side so she’s lying down in the bed, facing Vera.

“Not as bad as you think…” she mutters to herself, and then presses her lips together, hoping that the shorter woman laying next to her didn’t hear it.

She did, but is far too exhausted for it to resonate in her brain for now. It certainly will, later.

Vera stretches out one arm, wrapping it around Joan’s waist, holding her close as if she’s scared that the other vampire will simply disappear. Joan twists in her hold, ensuring that they’re both covered by the duvet, tucked into a cocoon of high thread-count sheets and warmth and then settles on her side again, facing Vera.

“The light?” Vera whispers, her voice sounding slow.

Joan smirks and lifts one hand out of the cocoon of blankets. Making sure that the curly haired woman’s eyes are following her movement, she clicks her fingers, and the room is doused in darkness. Vera fidgets closer to her with no hesitation, wanting to be near her.

Vera’s tiny laugh makes her grin, and the two settle into the mattress. Vera presses herself closer, humming once happily, and tightening the arm around the taller vampire’s waist. In response, Joan wraps her own arm around Vera’s middle. She inhales the scent of Joan again, her eyes falling shut and her breathing evening out.

Joan follows suit shortly after.

* * *

Vera wakes first, and takes the opportunity to look at Joan as she sleeps, taking in everything about her.

Her mind occasionally feels like its sprinting at one hundred miles an hour, and sometimes she feels that it’s overwhelming and too much to cope with. And then it seems like the vampire part of her takes over again and she’s fine. She hopes that it doesn’t last too long.

When her instincts take over, it feels like her vampire self comes to the fore. However, when she isn’t in the waves of her instincts, her other self is in the back of her mind, running a commentary that most of the time, Vera feels that she doesn’t need to know. Unless she suddenly decides that she needs to. Like the fact that Joan smells amazing. And that she’s attached to her by multiple strands, and has no interest in detaching them.

A small sigh brings her attention back to the pale woman laying in front of her. Vera still has her arms wrapped around her waist, and Joan hasn’t moved from her position on her side. The only difference now is that the hand not around Vera’s middle is tucked under the pillows. She gazes at her, noting the single freckle that she has on her right cheekbone, and the strand of hair that moves with each breath that she takes.

Vera smiles.

She’s still tired, but it isn’t the bone-tired exhaustion from earlier. The best way that she can think to describe it is after a very good night’s sleep, where you can slip back into sleep with very little issue.

Joan doesn’t look like she’s waking anytime soon, so Vera snuggles back into her, pulling her close and tucking her head into the cocoon of blankets, so she can go back to sleep, inhaling the scent of the other vampire.

Vera falls back to sleep as she hears Joan’s content sigh.

* * *

Vera wakes first, again.

They’ve shifted positions this time, instead of both laying on their sides, Vera has hooked her leg over Joan’s hip, and is half laying on her, head resting on the gentle swell of her breasts. Joan’s arm is around her waist, and one of her legs tucked between Vera’s thighs. Just like before, the blanket is tucked around them, encasing them in warmth and comfort.

_It smells just like her._

A fact that has Vera’s inner vampire purring like a cat.

In all honesty, Vera doesn’t really understand why she likes the smell of Joan so much. The other woman had tried to explain, but couldn’t really say more beyond “it’s instinctual? I think.” When she thinks of the other woman, there’s admiration there, a healthy respect, but there’s something else and she can’t get a grip on what. It annoys her.

Joan had stepped in to help her, offered her protection to the new vampire, and promised to be there every step of the way. Vera feels a little guilty that in less than three days, she’s had two outbursts, one of which resulted in the destruction of Joan’s kitchen door. But they’ve also danced around the kitchen, watched Netflix and had friendly banter about serial killers and Joan’s reassured her every time she needed it.

She’s glad that the woman managed to get rid of the vampire that had attacked her in the first place, it meant that whoever it was couldn’t come back to finish what he started.

The idea of Joan getting hurt, or the chance of it… _unacceptable._

_No-one will get to hurt Joan._

Her mind flashes back to the scar on the other woman’s shoulder blade. She clenches her teeth, and there’s a rattling in her brain when she thinks of the bullet that had hit the woman. The fact that some idiot had the gall to point a gun in Joan’s direction and pull the trigger made her want to snarl.

And then, like a lightbulb flicking on, Vera knows exactly what she’s feeling.

_Mine._

Joan was hers.

The word repeated over and over in her head, and then she looks at the woman’s face again.

“Mine.” She whispers with a grin, and pulls the woman close with the arm wrapped around her middle, and settles down to sleep again.

_Mine._

* * *

When Vera wakes again, she’s feeling far more energetic than she had the previous times that she’d woken. But the space next to her is empty. The blankets have been tucked around her, carefully, so as not to restrict her movement, but close enough to make her feel cosy.

Frowning, she lifts her head from the pillow, and looks around the room.

_Where was she?_

Then, her ears prick up, hearing something. Closing her eyes, and furrowing her eyebrows, she concentrates. She thinks of the layout to the house, trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from, and what it was. The bedroom she’s currently in, is facing the back garden, so it’s above the kitchen, however she knows that the kitchen juts out further into the garden, and Vera knows that if she were to look out of the window, she’d see the roof of the patio.

The sound is coming from down below, but not beyond the window.

With the location of the sound figured out, she listens again. There’s a musical lilt, along with some quiet clattering, which Vera assumes is crockery of some kind, and low mechanical humming.

She listens again, pinpointing each noise.

The whisper of feet on the tiles, and quiet click of a cupboard closing.

The musical notes.

 _Humming,_ she realises. _Joan’s humming?_

Smiling, Vera lets the noise drift away, so that it isn’t at the forefront of her concentration. It’s still there, in the back of her mind, but her vampiric sense can dull it, so that it isn’t aggravatingly distracting.

The door creaks slightly as Joan pushes it open with her foot, her hands holding a tray carefully.

Vera sits up, rubbing her eyes and shifting to lay back against the pillows. Her eyes follow Joan’s figure in her pyjamas as she places the tray on the bedside table, and then perches on the bed.

“Mornin’” Vera yawns, raising her hand to cover her mouth. Joan smiles, the rumpled hair making her grin.

“Afternoon, actually. Looks like we slept until 2.” She shifts on the bed, getting more comfortable and then reaches over for the tray, bringing it over to rest on Vera’s lap. On the tray is a fairly large but delicate looking teapot, along with the travel mug from yesterday, with the lid already screwed on. Next to the tea pot are two small teacups, along with a sugar bowl with a matching lid, and on a small saucer is a metal strainer.

“I thought I’d let you try some tea.” Joan says, when she sees Vera’s quizzical look and then laughs when the expression on her face becomes bewildered. “Watch, darling.”

_Darling._

That made Vera’s inner vampire purr too. She hoped that the endearment wouldn’t only be a one off.

Lifting the tea pot, and moving one of the tea cups, she pours the tea into the china cup. Vera’s nose twitches, smelling the tea and something that smells delicious. The liquid that pours from the spout is dark, but pours as tea would.

It smells divine.

Joan spoons one teaspoon of sugar into the cup, stirs and then hands it over, and Vera cups it in her hands. It’s hot, and steam rises from the liquid as Vera brings it up to her nose and inhales.

“Can you tell what it is?” Joan’s curious if Vera can verbalise what her nose is telling her.

“That’s English Breakfast, and something else. I don’t know what it is, but that smells lovely.”

Joan remembers that Vera’s first meal had been in a sealed travel mug, so she hadn’t smelt it. “What do you think it is?”

“Blood. But that’s not possible, it’s tea, isn’t it?”

Joan eyes her, watching as she lifts the cup to her lips and takes a small sip, her eyes flying wide open with surprise.

“It’s tea, but it tastes like blood too! Not too much of one or the other, either.” Vera laughs in wonder at the fact that she’s drinking tea, can taste the tealeaves, but there’s also a blood content to it. “How the hell did you figure that out?!”

Joan pours her own cup, adding two spoonfuls of sugar and stirring. “I came up with the idea back when I was in London in the 50’s. There had been talks of Twinnings infusing their teas with other flavours, like lemon or orange and I thought that it cant be too difficult to make it with blood, too.”

She sips from the mug, and sighs contentedly, lifting her legs and tucking them back under the blanket. Vera, careful of the tray, shifts so that she can lean against her, sipping her tea.

“I like it. It makes me feel normal.”

“Well, that’s what I thought.”

They sit silently, basking in the quiet of the bedroom, sipping from their teacups, and Vera leans her head on Joan’s shoulder, smiling when she feels the other woman’s cheek coming to rest on the top of her head.

“I never thanked you for saving me, in the first place, did I?” Vera said, quietly.

“You never needed to.” Joan whispered back, lifting her head and arm to pour another cup.

“Still.” Vera holds her own cup out and Joan fills it, and Vera spoons her own sugar this time. Stirring, she looks over at the black haired vampire who’s sipping her cup. “Thank you.”

Joan holds her arm out, and Vera doesn’t hesitate to curl into her side, teacup in one hand. Wrapping her arm around the curly haired woman, she speaks softly.

“Saving you was purely selfish.” Vera looks up at her in curiosity, waiting as she swallowed the mouthful of tea. “I found that you’ve made yourself a decent and important part of my life, and I wasn’t going to let a feral _childe_ take you from me.”

Vera gazes at her, transfixed as Joan stares at the wall opposite the bed. It was true, Vera had carved herself a comfortable little hole in Joan’s soul, and she wasn’t being taken away. The only time Vera would go away from her, would be if it was _her_ choice, and _her choice alone._

“Allow me to put it in a way that your fanged alter-ego that sits in the back of your mind will understand.” She says, looking at her and offering a smirk. Of course Joan knows of her _other self._ She has one, too.

“Go on.”

“Quite frankly, darling, _you’re mine.”_


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera finds her feet in her new life, and gets a surprise. Joan is with her every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I will say lovely people, this is very fluffy, and the story will definitely start to pick up pace. 
> 
> The rest of the world is still beyond our favourite ladies's front door and it will encroach on their little bubble. Will it cause some trouble? Perhaps, but it will definitely bring both friends and enemies to their doorstep.

_“Quite frankly, darling, you’re mine.”_

* * *

It’s Joan’s quick reflexes that stop the tray from tipping off of the side of the bed completely. In one smooth movement, she has both teacups on the tray, and she’s moving it back to the bedside table before Vera pins her back into the bed, albeit with a gentle grip.

There’s an ecstatic, toothy grin on her face as she hovers above Joan, who doesn’t try to move her off of her. 

“Really?” Is the breathless whisper that comes from the curly haired woman.

The soft smile that Joan gives her, makes her heart flutter. Well, as much as a vampire’s heart can flutter, at least. 

“You think I let just anyone use my good teapot, and sneak into my bed when they can’t sleep?” She teases, and Vera shakes slightly with stifled laughter. “It means whatever we want it to mean, but one thing is certain – you have a place at my side, Vera. _Always_.”

The emphasis of the _always,_ Vera’s eyes glitter, and she drops herself onto Joan who playfully lets out a huff in response as Vera then wraps her arms around Joan’s neck and hugs her close, whilst also sneaking a quick inhale of the scent of the woman. Joan returns the embrace, pressing her nose into her still rumpled curls, and smiles.

“So, although we did sleep most of the day away, we have got some errands to do this afternoon.” Joan murmurs, smirking at Vera’s low groan of protest, and the fact that the curly haired vampire makes no effort to move off of her.

“Sunshine practice?” She mumbles.

“Sunshine practice.”

* * *

In another set of borrowed clothes, Vera nervously stood by the back door, next to Joan who offered her hand in comfort to her.

“Ready?”

Vera hesitated, then nodded, taking the offered hand and remembering how the garden had looked yesterday.

Joan pulled back the large blanket that she had placed over the doors when Vera had first been brought into the house, exposing the glass of the sliding doors, and flung it behind her, out of the way. Then, she unlocked the door and it slid back with no noise, and Vera took a deep breath in, enjoying the smell of the flowers, the grass. She could even tell which scent was that of the wooden patio furniture.

Joan stepped out first, placing one pale foot out onto the concrete floor of the patio, and then gently tugged Vera’s hand to encourage her to take the first step outside. She doesn’t rush her, allowing her to take her time.

Slowly, the shorter woman emerged out of the house, feeling the heat on her skin and the familiar feeling settled the nerves in her stomach.

“It’s not too bad…” She said, gaining confidence and allowed Joan to tug her into the sunny spot where the wooden furniture was currently placed. Joan sat in one chair, and Vera slid into the one next to her. She noticed the closed umbrella leaning against Joan’s chair, and the large brimmed sunhat on the table.

The butterflies returned to her stomach as she recognised the show of obvious care from Joan.

They sat for a few moments in silence, as Vera looked around the garden in awe, seeing the sunshine bathe the flowers in bright light, showing the pollen bounce through the air lazily.

“So, we need to get you some clothes.” Joan says, and Vera turns her head, curiously.

“Oh! Er…that might be tricky.” She pulled her eyes away from the shiny nail in the fence behind Joan’s head, trying not to be distracted by the glint of the silver metal, the size of an eraser at the top of a pencil. Joan grins as she watches Vera’s eyes, pulled every few seconds back to the nail in the wood. “I don’t have any money right now.”

“Vera.” The tone of her voice pulls Vera’s attention back to Joan. “I am nearly a hundred years old, I will cover it.”

“That’s not right…” Vera tried to protest, but Joan is giving her no chance to try and deny her.

“Darling.”

 _There’s that word again,_ Vera thinks, her stomach squeezing in happiness.

“When I said earlier that you were mine, I meant it.” Joan leans forward and lifts the sunhat from the table, and gently places it on Vera’s head, having noticed the slightly red tint to her forehead. With the proper protection, Vera would be fine in the sun for at least twenty minutes. “That means helping you in whatever manner you need.”

Vera closed her eyes, feeling Joan’s hands carefully put the sunhat over her head.

“I hate feeling like a burden…”

With that murmured sentence, Joan understands just how deeply Rita Bennett had traumatised her daughter. The woman had never raised a hand to her daughter, as far as Joan was aware, but there was more than one way to abuse your child. When things as insignificant as buying clothes became a bargaining tool held over her head to keep her compliant and dependent on her mother, Vera had grown up with fears of being a burden on anyone.

“…and it will put you out of pocket, too. I probably couldn’t fit into my old clothes now.”

Joan decides to ease her worries. She makes a note to herself to show Vera the extent of her wealth later, to demonstrate to her that she could buy the entire contents of any designer store, more than twenty times over and still have more than one person could ever spend in a lifetime.

“Darling, let me take care of it.” She reaches forward and gently grips her chin in her hand, turning Vera’s face towards her, and waiting for the woman to nod once, still slightly unsure.

They sit in the sun for fifteen minutes, Vera asking more questions about vampires, and Joan patiently answering every one. When she notices the distinct reddish tint to Vera’s arms where the sun had touched, she reached behind her and clicked open the large black umbrella with the button at the handle, and handed it over without a word. Although the umbrella would cover her from the direct sunlight, she would continue to build her body’s resistance to it by staying outside as long as she could manage. Joan couldn’t explain it in any scientific detail, there was hardly academic research on how vampires built skin resistance to sunlight, after all.

She’s so preoccupied with thoughts of setting Vera up with her own account and investments that she doesn’t notice how the rosebush nearest to the patio is growing. Quickly.

It was growing at an extremely accelerated rate, or at least, some of it’s branches were.

“Erm…I’m assuming that roses don’t usually grow that fast?” Vera’s nervous voice draws Joan’s attention and they watch together as a branch with three pink roses and thorns creep it’s way towards the patio. It makes it’s way towards them, slightly above the grass and it isn’t until it’s curling up the leg of Vera’s chair that Joan realises what she’s witnessing.

“Vera.” The woman looks up at her, entranced by the movement of the branch, now twisting up the armrest. “I believe you might be finding a gift.”

“Really?!” She looks back down at the branch excitedly. “Hello!” She speaks to it in the same tone as one would speak to an adorable puppy, or a newborn. The roses seem to quiver in response and Joan watches in fascination as the branch twists upwards and then waves its roses at Vera.

“Oh, for me?” She asks it, and holds out her hand, the other holding the handle of the umbrella. “Thank you…but I don’t want to hurt you by taking them off you.” Joan rolls her eyes good-naturedly at Vera’s soft heartedness. It was a trait that she hid well at work, but Joan had been on the receiving end of it, more than once. A cup of espresso, snuck up to her office in the early morning shifts, that Joan would carefully add some blood into to make it drinkable was the usual method, but occasionally a tub of pasta would appear on her desk if Vera knew that she would be in work until later into the night. The fact that Joan would have to get rid of the food didn’t take away from the care Vera showed.

The rosebush is not willing to have its gift refused, so with a quiet crack, the upper branch with the three roses detaches itself, and settles into the palm of Vera’s outstretched hand, shuddering as she rubs her thumb on one of the petals.

“Well…that’s new.” Joan comments.

Vera bursts into peals of laughter as the now rose-less shrub retreats back to it’s spot in the bush, but the branch settles with resting up against the fence.

* * *

After ten more minutes, Vera has to admit that she needs to go back inside. Joan stands first, offering her hand and Vera places the tiny branch of roses on the table, unsure what to do with them. It shuffles onto the thickest part of its branch, and tries to shunt its way back over to Vera, obviously not happy with the current situation.

Both women watch in bemusement, Vera eventually turning to Joan with a confused look.

“Well, it looks like it wants to come with you, darling.” Joan pretends not to notice how Vera’s eyes glitter at the endearment. “Bring your new friend, I’m sure I have a spare pot that I can put some compost in for it.”

The three roses seem to quiver in excitement, shaking its leaves slightly as Vera gently scooped it back up into her hands.

They both step into the house, as the garden flowers settle back into their places, now that Vera was out of sight.

Neither woman notice the cat hiding in the shade of the rosebush, watching carefully.

* * *

As Joan rubs away the remaining redness on Vera’s hands, the sprig of roses is now resting in the small pot of compost on the coffee table, swaying to and fro. When Joan had gently tried to pick up the little sprig of roses to plant it in the terracotta pot, it had shrunk back and shaken it’s leaves at her, almost scoldingly.

Or at least, it had until Vera had chided it softly.

“Hey, now, none of that! She wants to help you.” The roses had wilted slightly, but Vera gently stroked the petals of one of the rosebuds, and it perked back up. When Joan had picked it up, it had rubbed against her thumb as she’d carefully potted it in the soil, and then settled as she had patted down the compost.

“I’m calling her Rosie.”

Joan grins with bemusement. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“No, not at all.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent with Joan trying to convince Vera to add more clothes to her basket on the various clothing websites that they’ve trawled through, and the early evening spent trying to convince Vera that yes, she was financially sound.

“Buy whatever you want to wear. Get the things you’ve always wanted to wear but couldn’t for whatever reason. What’s the point of living longer if you don’t grab it by the hands and enjoy it?” Joan had reasoned, as Vera had sat wringing her hands with the laptop on her lap, open on some designer website or other. They’d been sat together on the sofa, the tv on, with low volume for background noise. She’d watched the other woman smile at certain clothes, and then sigh and click the ‘back’ button without adding it to her basket.

Eventually, Joan had sighed and risen to her feet, speeding off to her office upstairs, grabbing a fireproof, locked box and bringing it back downstairs, depositing it in Vera’s lap. She’d let her flick through the numerous statements, proof of investment and various other financial information, allowing her time to take it in. Then, when she’d looked up at her, she’d said only one thing with a smile.

“Buy the bloody dress, Vera.”

It didn’t stop Vera fretting over it, though. Joan already had an intention to start investments in Vera’s name, so her unhappiness over money solidified her plans. It would take some time to fight the trauma surrounding finances that Rita Bennett had left in her daughter, but Joan would support her, regardless. And that included making sure that she had her own financial freedom, unconnected to her.

If she decided that she wanted to leave, she would not be held back by lack of funds.

“Help me?” Vera had closed the box, and put it on the floor, grabbing the laptop and opening it again, tucking herself into Joan’s side and sipping delicately on the straw that had been placed in the cup of blood that Joan had passed to her.

“Of course, darling.”

The rest of the evening, and most of the early morning was spent building Vera a wardrobe of clothes, in a style that she’d always wanted to try, and had always wanted to be brave enough to wear.

Rosie sways softly in her pot on the coffee table, rose buds bobbing in the low light of the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate every kudos and comment, and I always love reading what you lovely people think <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your thoughts and opinions you lovely people! I appreciate every one! <3 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments keep me going :D


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